


Rogue of Heart: Play Matchmaker

by whittler_of_words



Series: The Gods That Walk This Earth [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, JohnKat Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 14:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1473259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whittler_of_words/pseuds/whittler_of_words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, Karkat. Get ahold of yourself. Pretend that the God of Heart didn’t just tell you to tap that ass. (Not that John has a bad ass. You didn’t get much of a chance to look at it but from what you’ve seen it’s actually pretty-<em> nope not thinking about that right now</em>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rogue of Heart: Play Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place the night before "A Pantheon of Idiot Nookstains". Beware of continuity errors abound :/

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and if someone had tried to tell you just a little over a sweep ago that you would take part in a game that would make you and your friends the Gods of a new universe, you would have laughed in their face before dishing them a healthy serving of “fuck you” via a messily-coded virus.

You also probably would have locked yourself in your hive for a few days wondering how that person knew who you were and how to find you (and how much else they knew about you), but that’s beside the point.

_The point is_ , you never quite expected any of this to happen. You thought your life would end at your eighth sweep, when your eyes colored in and you were discovered for the blood-mutant you were and some troll would finally cull you for daring to exist. Somehow, a game that would bring about the apocalypse just never quite factored itself in as a possibility. A game that, to be honest, really fucking sucked. 

But hey. You won! You fucking _won_ , you and your friends; every single one of you managed to make it out alive and you all reaped the Reward. You ascended to Godhood, gained fancy new powers with fancy responsibilities and, get this: a whole planet of people who actually _worship you_. A whole race that dedicates whole days and events to each of you in turn in honor of what you all did, even though they don’t have the slightest clue about what actually happened. Who - and this is the real kicker - happen to have the exact same shade of blood as yours, who see you not as a mutant freak but someone to be revered.

You’re extremely bitter about it.

The place where the Game dropped you off is strange, in the sense that only you and your friends can get to it. You still hear your friends occasionally arguing over whether it’s actually possible to find the entrance somewhere on Earth. It’s huge, really, with a cookingblock that always seems to be filled with food no matter how much anyone eats and plenty of room for all of you. The private blocks turned out to be taken from your old hives, exactly as they were the moment the meteors hit, like the data had been saved and then restored. Your friends were ecstatic, when you all realized the new things you could do. It turns out, if you concentrate hard enough, you can actually make yourself look like the humans down on Earth, walk among them and learn about them and do whatever-the-fuck, basically.

You don’t do any of that, obviously. Because you feel cheated.

All of your friends seemed so happy to forget about Alternia, the lives you lived before, but you just can’t get it out of your fucking mind. These stars aren’t your stars. The sun isn’t your sun - fuck, even the _air_ is different. Your entire culture is gone and dead and, what, now that there’s this weak little planet being offered to you it’s all supposed to be _okay?_ Well, whoop-de-fucking doo! Look at you just being a ball of happiness and sunshine over here!

No, fuck that. You were done.

You sulked, for a good long while. You refused to leave the block you’d long grown out of for most of anything, much to Kanaya’s chagrin. You watched movies, read books. Hell, even attempted to write your own, a few times. Anything that would keep you from having to go out _there._

But the new powers and responsibilities thing wasn’t a joke, either. People _prayed_ to you, asking you for help. You tried not to listen. You ultimately failed. You were always a sucker for people in need, you always knew you were a little pale for your entire fucking universe, so why not this one, too? And it was enough, for a while. You would sit and tune in to that weird place in your head that allowed you to hear what they all asked and helped where you could. A robbery at a poor man’s store, all the guy needed was a little whisper, a little nudge; the assailant was already indecisive but once under your influence he decided to run and everyone got home safe. A guy getting cornered in an alley, you convinced a passerby with a phone that there was something suspicious about the sounds and now would be a good time to call the police.

It. Fuck, helping? Making a God damn difference? It felt good. You still didn’t leave your block but it was because you were working instead of wasting your time like a sniveling wriggler. 

It was during one of those rare lapses of relative silence that you got the call for help. Your attention zeroed in like it always did, as you focused on it.

_Knight, give me protection so I can be there for my family._

And it struck you, hard, because in all the time you’d opened yourself up this was the first you’d gotten a call worded like that. Not please _don’t let me die don’t let me die I don’t want to die_ ; this person was praying with no regards to self. You heard the word “family” and all the emotions behind it were laid clear; the fierce love, the protectiveness, the wish to be there and hold and help. To be honest…

It reminded you of you.

_PLEASE._

Nudges wouldn’t work this time; the assailants were enjoying themselves far too much for that. You could feel your caller’s mind drifting off and you. Well, you made a split-second decision.

You hadn’t tried to make yourself look human before, but Terezi and Aradia had explained it enough times to you that you thought you knew what you were doing. You concentrated and you pulled, yanked as hard as you could on your intent and something shifted. You didn’t take the time to find out what it was. You focused on where the call had come from and sent a _GET ME THERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW_ out into the universe and were greeted with a downpour of rain and cold night air on your face. 

“Hey, shitlickers!” 

And that’s how you ended up here: soaking wet in some human’s hive as his man-lusus-parent-thing stares in open-mouthed shock at the image of John leaning against you as you stand in the open doorway of his house.

“Hi, Dad,” John says with a shaky voice, and you are reminded just how fucked up he really is right now. You’d almost forgotten how badly he was hurt, what with him being so fucking cheerful about the whole thing, but those nookmunchers weren’t fucking around. The other human seems to realize this, because he takes John - not even sparing you a glance - and practically carries him to the kitchen table.

“Dad, I’m-”

“Not now, John,” the man says, and John immediately falls silent. “You can explain once I’m sure you’re okay.” John nods.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure that the box John’s dad pulls out from you don’t even know where is a first-aid kit. He takes out a rag, runs it under the sink, and begins dabbing gently at the blood on John’s face. It’s not as bad as the amount of blood told it would be, nothing more than a split lip and a nasty looking scrape on his cheek from when he fell in the street. He’ll live. You’ve seen much worse before.

“Were you hurt anywhere else?”

“My ribs,” John says, hovering a hand over his chest before pointing to the back of his head, “and my head. I’m fine, though.”

“We’ll see. Shirt up, young man.” John puffs out his cheeks but obeys, his dad helping pull the shirt over his head. And the way he presses down lightly on John’s ribs, asking where it hurts with his brow furrowed… It gives you a sudden, unbidden pang for your lusus, drawing you back to the moments where he’d click at you and bludgeon you with his claws whenever you’d hurt yourself during sickle practice, or skree the alarm whenever someone came too close to your hive. How he trusted you. How much you miss him.

Which is ridiculous. The fucker’s been dead for over a sweep now.

“Is your vision blurry?”

“Dad, my vision is _always_ blurry.”

“Good point. Are you dizzy?”

“No.”

“Trouble balancing?”

“Not really?”

“Nausea? Does the light hurt?”

“Nope and nope.”

“What’s twenty-eight minus thirty-six?”

“Uh...negative twelve?”

“Very good.” The adult straightens up, rolling the sleeves of his shirt back down from his elbows. “Now. If you would explain how this happened, please.”

“I was taking a walk,” John begins hesitantly, “and I saw this small group of people by the park. I was going to walk around them but I saw they were beating somebody up. I couldn’t just keep walking! They just kept going at it and I knew they were going to hurt them really really badly, so I told them to leave them alone and they started going after me. I know, I should’ve been more careful, and I shouldn't have gone for a walk alone so late at night or at least taken my phone with me-”

“John.” The man sets a hand on John’s shoulder, and he cuts off from his ramble instantly, an anxious look on his face. “Granted, I wish that you hadn’t confronted those people alone, but you did the right thing. I’m proud of you.” At the words, John’s nervous expression melts away into a smile that makes the cut on his lip break open and start bleeding again. John’s dad hands him a rag, and he presses it to his mouth.

“They kinda did a number on me,” John says, slightly muffled by the rag. “I wouldn’t have gotten home without Karkat’s help.”

“Who-?” The man turns around as John glances at you behind him, and he blinks in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice you. You helped my son home?”

John speaks before you can, while John’s dad walks forward to enclose your hand in his and shake it firmly. You worry about your nails before you remember they’re blunt now. Stupid. “Yeah, he scared the guys off for me, too! I would be a lot worse off if he hadn’t come along.”

“I’m very grateful,” he says, smiling, and it’s such an open expression that you would be weirded out if you weren’t used to humans and the way they work yet. But it’s nice, you guess, not having to worry if he’ll shove a knife in your back the second you turn.

Doesn’t mean you’re taking any chances though. The amount that someone wants to kill you can change in an instant, troll or no, and even if you can’t die under most circumstances, dying _hurts._

“Don’t mention it,” you say, and you pull your hand back, already uncomfortable with the physicality of it. You’re worried for a second that you’ve disrespected one of those weird human customs, but John’s dad simply keeps the sincere smile on his face and nods understandingly. Whether it’s to what you said, or if he caught on to your discomfort, you can’t tell. It doesn’t really matter either way, except maybe for your pride. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Uh, hellooo,” John says at the table, eyebrows raised slightly. “If you hadn’t stepped in I’d be a goner by now. I think that’s kind of a big deal."

"Regardless, you have my thanks, Bloodman."

You blink, confused at the title, until your thinkpan catches up with you and you remember what you look like. No duh, Vantas, of _course_ he’s going to think you're a member of your Church.

John bites nervously at his lip - opening up the split there _yet again, holy shit hes such a fucking idiot_ \- obviously trying to decide whether or not to tell his guardian about your status as one of the Gods. You shrug when he catches your eyes; it’s his decision. You fail to give any real fucks at the moment.

John nods, takes a deep breath, opens his mouth to speak, and suddenly there’s a voice from the still-open door.

"Karkitty!"

You stumble forward as something latches onto you from behind, arms twining around your shoulders in a hug. An all too familiar laugh sounds right next to your ear.

"Nepeta," you splutter, "how the fuck did you find me?!"

'The mighty huntress always finds her prey!" She finally releases you from her hold, still laughing. Both of the humans are looking behind you in open-mouthed shock, and you see why when you turn around.

You fail to resist the temptation.

You slap a hand to your face.

"Nepeta," you say between gritted teeth, eyes screwed shut under your palm because you simply _can not_ believe. " _Horns_."

Nepeta blinks slowly when you look up to glare at her. She brings a hand up to the glaringly obvious orange horns on her head and opens and closes her mouth silently a couple times.

"Oops," she says. "Should I-?"

"Its a little too late for that," you say, motioning with an arm to the humans behind you. Nepeta gives them a small little wave and smiles at you apologetically. 

"Sorry. I just came to tell you," she says. "You can’t come home."

You stare at her for a few moments. 

"Sorry, could you repeat that, because I must have misheard you. Theres absolutely _no way_ you could’ve just said I can’t go back."

"Well, you can try," she says, "but I don’t think you’d be able to!"

You take a couple breaths. "And why, pray tell, is that?"

Nepeta digs a hand into one of the pockets of her green coat, and pulls out a neatly folded note. “I haven’t read it yet,” she says. You take it from her and open it. “Vwhiskers gave it to me.”

I was messing around with my powers and I aaaaaaaaaccidentally gave you 8ad luck! Oops! It shouldn’t 8e toooooooo 8ad, 8ut I wouldn’t try doing too many things with your powers if I were you.

And if I lose this ded8cant 8ecause of you, you won’t 8e so lucky next time. ::::)

No amount of deep breathing could fix this. “Serket,” you grit out. “If you’re listening to this, I want you to know that next time I see you I will _wreck your shit_.” You crumple the note, and then tear it to pieces, and because you’re not so much of an asshole that you’d just dump it all over the floor, you stuff it into your pocket. You’ll, you don’t know, burn it when you get the chance or something. Nepeta blinks at you owlishly.

Because you would never forgive yourself if you didn’t try, you tentatively feel out the direction of your communal hives. It’s still there, you can see/feel it in that strange mental way, but when you try to get a hold on it, it slides out of your grip. You try again, and find that your aim was off just a little to the left. When you try to change your appearance again, all you do is give yourself a headache.

Fuck. Fuck dammit. You can practically hear Vriska’s shrill cackle from where you stand.

“I’m going to kill her,” you say. “I really, really am.”

“So you really are stuck?” Nepeta asks. “AC wishes she could help, but luck is not her furte.” 

You drag a hand down your face. “I know. Thanks anyway, Nepeta. Ugh, fuck, now I have to find a place to stay, fantastic.”

There’s a cough from behind you. “You could, uh. Stay here?” John says when you turn around, and he glances up at his dad. “If that’s okay?”

It takes a moment before John’s dad responds. “Yes. You would be more than welcome to stay here for the time being.”

That would solve so many problems for you right now, but... “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose-” Nepeta whacks the back of your head. “-Shit, ok! Thank you.”

“I’ll see you later, Karkitty,” Nepeta says. “Equius and I have a date.”

“Alright, go be gross with your gross sweaty moirail. I’ll...be here, I guess.”

She winks at you. Oh, great. Her winks never mean anything good. She leans in close and purrs, quietly enough that only you can hear, “AC thinks Karkitty should pounce on that cute human’s B if he gets the chance.” You think she waggles her eyebrows, but you’re too busy trying to recover from a coughing fit to tell for sure.

“Oh my God,” you manage, but she’s already gone, whether she just left out the door or poofed straight to Equius’s hive. Just. Oh my _God_ , Nepeta. _Why would she think that is an ok thing to say._

Okay, Karkat. Get ahold of yourself. Pretend that the God of Heart didn’t just tell you to tap that ass. (Not that John has a bad ass. You didn’t get much of a chance to look at it but from what you’ve seen it’s actually pretty- _nope not thinking about that right now_.) You turn back to the two humans.

“...Karkat, this is my Dad,” John says. “Dad, this is Karkat. Also known as the Knight of Blood.”

John’s Dad looks vaguely like he’s contemplating flipping off the handle, before he takes a breath and says, “I see.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind, right?” you ask again. “Because I don’t want you doing this out of some sense of religious duty or something equally as stupid.”

“We would offer regardless of any sense of religious duty or not,” John’s dad says, and John nods vigorously as he speaks. “As I said before, you’re welcome to stay.”

Okay then. That’s all you needed to know. It’d be awful if they turned out to be some of those overenthusiastic types of zealots, the ones who actually think that making blood sacrifices in your name is a good idea. That would just be awkward.

After a few moments of all of you standing around being equally confused as to how to move forward, John’s dad clears his throat. “Well,” he says. “It’s a bit late for dinner, but there’s something in the oven I believe is almost-”

An alarm chimes quietly from the kitchen, and John’s dad smiles. “Ah, that would be the cake. I’ll serve us up some plates.”

John groaned as his Dad moved off, rolling his eyes. He was holding the rag down over his lip again, but even still you could see the small smile on his face.

Well. This will certainly be...interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so rough. Not my best work, but I thought it might be enjoyed anyhow. 
> 
> CAN YOU SEE IT? OVER THE HORIZON. IT IS THE JOHNKAT, SLOWLY APPROACHING, AND IT IS BEAUTIFUL.


End file.
